


The End Of It All

by Gamororc



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamororc/pseuds/Gamororc
Summary: The Throne Room is desolate, stone broken and rubble lying on the floor. The only thing that remains standing is that Throne, as much of a monstrosity now as when she first set eyes on it. So many people had died for that thing, so many secrets and lies and murders. She couldn't see its worth, not for the price of her father's head, her brothers and mother's lives, her sister's childhood.My best guess for the ending. If it turns out to be true I want credit so I'm posting now and not later.





	The End Of It All

**Author's Note:**

> Assume spoilers for the series up to today (08/05/19) but I don't think there's anything explicit if I'm honest. I'd put money on Arya taking out Daenerys but I won't be upset if I'm wrong. In my head I can create as many endings as I like 😊

The Throne Room is desolate, stone broken and rubble lying on the floor. The only thing that remains standing is that Throne, as much of a monstrosity now as when she first set eyes on it. So many people had died for that thing, so many secrets and lies and murders. She couldn't see its worth, not for the price of her father's head, her brothers and mother's lives, her sister's childhood. 

 

Jon was facing it, ash raining down on his head, settling in his hair. The dragon beside the new queen had its hackles raised. Tyrion Lannister, the last of them, was bloodied and prostrate on the floor, unmoving. She couldn't see from here if he was breathing. She didn't care, although she bore him no ill will; after all, he was kind to Sansa when no one else was. 

 

The Dragon Queen had a look in her eye which contrasted with Jon. He was tired, injured, battle weary and trying to placate her. Thousands were dead, and for what? A birthright that wasn't even hers, that damn chair sat amongst a ruined palace. 

 

She clutched her dagger and waited, taking a steadying, deep breath. None of them would likely leave here, except for Drogon. Without a master he could be free, wreck havoc amongst some hill farmers in a more temperate climate. The North was too cold but here will be too hot when winter is over. She loved dragons, always wanted to hear the stories as a child. She counted herself lucky to have seen them alive, even if this one would likely be her death. She had to do this, though. No one else needed to die. Not for the Throne. Not anymore. 

 

"Dany, please-" "

 _" 'Dany, please'_ ," she mocked. "You don't get to speak. You, who cast me aside-" 

"You know why I had to." 

"Because of your pride." 

"Because you're my aunt!"

"So?"

"So?" 

"You _told_ your sisters. They will be planning a coup. I begged you not to and yet you still did. You've destroyed everything that could have been. Jon I love you, and it pains me to do this but you haven't left me with a choice." 

 

Jon's shoulders sagged, the fight leaving him. He always was too soft. 

 

"Kill me if you must but leave my sisters be." 

"Sansa will rally the North against me. I can't allow that." 

"She won't." 

"You don't exactly sound convinced of that yourself." 

"I'm not going to take your throne. You won't even need to see me again. Just let me go home to them. I'll stop Sansa from doing anything. "

She laughed, and it was a chilling sound, high pitched and a cold as winter. 

"And rally the North yourself? Never. They all much prefer you to me; wondrous Jon Snow who rode a dragon, who can fight like a king, who's baby sister saved us all. If anyone finds out who you are they will force you to take the Throne away from me. You never wanted to be King in the North and yet that's how you were presented to me."

 

She could see Jon struggling with himself, so she'd make it easier for him. She has no attachment to this woman, although she could have grown to like her had things been different, had she not been threatening everyone left in Arya's family. Had she not destroyed Kings Landing and murdered thousands of people in doing so. She can make sure Sansa at least survives. A rule that starts with so much violence could not end well, and Sansa in particular seems to have caught her attention. 

 

Jon half raised his sword, and with tears in her eyes Daenerys squared her shoulders. 

 

" Drogon-"

 

Arya ran, and jumped up the stairs, and drove her dagger into Daenerys back, flinging her weight into it to pull it downward as her feet touched the floor. Daenerys screamed and spun round, knocking Arya aside. Before she lost balance and crashed to the floor she reached up and with all the force she could muster drove her other dagger into Daenerys heart. 

 

She hit her head on stone floor, landing in ash and rubble as she did, the world turning black for a few seconds and sounds rushing to her but sounding strangely distant. She was aware of gasping and gurgling, loud growls and Jon was saying something but she couldn't focus to figure out what. She forced her eyes open to see Jon standing with his arms wide in front of the dragons open mouth. It was an impressive sight, the 'queen' bleeding at his feet as the dragon considered this man, someone with the blood to tame him but not his mother, and decided whether to light them all up. 

 

"Drogon, no, don't. Please."

 

Sound rushed back to get along with a strong headache. Arya tried to say that the dragon wouldn't understand him, that he spoke Valaryian, but ended up laughing to herself instead. Jon must have made some progress, as next thing she knew he was crouched down beside her, seeming alive and well, but the work still felt odd and they could still be dead. 

 

"It'll be alright, Arya." He said, quietly, a hand in her shoulder. "It's done."

"Go to her," Arya said, noticing his reddened eyes, but he soon his head. 

"It's too late for that now."

 

His voice was soft, he was trying to be kind by shielding her from the pain she knew he must be in. Her voice cracked despite her best efforts to remain strong, in control, detached. 

 

"I had to."

"I know."

"She'd have killed you."

"I know."

 

Arya sat up, and noticed that the dragon was still in the corner of the wrecked room, staring at the broken form on the floor; pale hair and features glistening out against the dull grey of ash and rubble. Jon finally dropped his sword and flopped to the floor beside her, weary and broken. She felt a strange sense of elation somewhere, that this was done. It was over and she had completed her mission. They could maybe go home and live peacefully where the sun was never too warm and the days never too long. 

 

"He listened to you, " she said, drinking in the sight of the one living dragon that was mourning its mother. If he leaves, if he flies away, she may never see a drain again. She wonders where he would go; it's a lonely existence without family, not something she would wish on anything. She wonders if he will, in fact, follow Jon north. 

 

"Doesn't matter. That's not who I am."

"But the throne-" 

"I don't want it. I've seen what it does to people. We should melt it down and throw the fucker in the sea." He sighed, placed his hand to his head and palm over his eyes. Ash and dust was turning his dark hair grey, creating the illusion of age, looking almost too much like her father. "I just want to go home, Arya."

 

She paused, drank him in as the first light began to shine through the broken ceiling. If they'd never come here all of those years ago, she wondered who she would have been. 

 

"Yeah. Me too."

 


End file.
